Luke said, "NYPD."
He had to report who he was. Although he had switched the order of pointing a gun at the man's head, he still reported who he was.
The middle-aged man was clearly stunned. "NYPD?"
Luke said, "Tell me, who's inside?"
The middle-aged man suddenly shouted, "DEA! We're DEA agents. My ID is in my chest pocket. You can take a look. "
Room 6B suddenly fell silent. Luke frowned. With the gun still pressed against the back of the man's head, he let go of the man's neck with his left hand and searched the man's chest for a badge.
With one glance, he knew that it wasn't fake.
But it remained to be seen whether these "DEA agents" were real or not.
Or perhaps it would be even more troublesome if they really were agents.
Feeling his neck loosen, the middle-aged man immediately said, "We're on a secret arrest mission. I'm Blas Bolton. My colleague is inside."
His voice was still very loud.
Narrowing his eyes, Luke vaguely understood what was going on.
Following Blas Bolton's words, someone in the room finally said, "We're from the DEA. Who's outside? Blas. "
Blas hurriedly said, "It's a police officer from NYPD."
As he spoke, Luke had already put his gun away and retreated to the stairs.
He didn't trust the DEA agents in the room at all.
Finally, a man poked his head out of the room and quickly glanced outside.
After confirming that Blas was the only one at the door, he quickly stuck his head out again and looked at Luke. "Buddy, what are you doing? It's not good to point a gun at a colleague. "
Luke smiled, but his expression didn't change. "Sorry, I received a notification that there was an intense gunfight here. You didn't show me your badge."
That being said, his gun was still aimed at the door of room 6B.
The man clearly didn't look too good.
Luke could sense the panic under the calm exterior of the man who was talking to him at the door. Behind him, someone was telling him in a low voice how to deal with Luke.
The commotion in the room grew louder again.
After saying that, Luke walked down the stairs a little so that most of his body was hidden below the ground.
Only then did he take out his phone and call the headquarters' information center.
Luke gave his identity and number and explained the situation. HQ said that the patrol officers would arrive in five minutes at most.
The commotion in Room 6B didn't stop. Luke's sharp hearing and brain reaction time continued to pick up bits and pieces of information from the other party's words.
"What about this guy?"
"Mackie, take him out later. If it's discovered, just say it's seized illegal drugs. "
"What about here? How do you explain the child's body? "
"Think about it yourself."
"Ah?"
…
Although he said five minutes, it was still fifteen minutes before the two patrol cars arrived downstairs.
Luke showed his badge to the four NYPD patrolmen upstairs and showed them his identity. He then explained the situation to them before he led them to Room 6B.
The patrol officers stood on both sides, guns in hand, and began to shout, "NYPD, listen up. Put down your weapons, come out, and show us your ID. Otherwise, we have reason to suspect you."
Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Hsu-Còm
After a moment of silence, four people walked out one after another.
They didn't have guns in their hands, but they had only holstered them. Each of them had a DEA badge on them or in their hands.
An eagle spread its wings and stood on the octagonal police badge. It was easily distinguishable from the NYPD badge.
One of the patrol officers stepped forward and checked their badges one by one, before he nodded at Luke.
Luke wasn't surprised.
The identities of these DEA agents were real, but only they knew what they were here for.
Luke had a rough idea, but there were some things that he couldn't accuse without solid evidence.
While the patrol officers were talking to the DEA agents, Luke stepped into the room.
The body of a short, fat man was lying near the door, but the six bullet holes in his back and the long trail of blood left by his crawling body were very unusual.
Avoiding all the blood, Luke took two steps forward. At the end of the corridor on the right was a young girl who had also been shot in the back and died.
Luke silently took two steps forward and looked at the open bathroom door on the right.
A woman was soaking in a bathtub with headphones on. There was a huge hole in her chest, and the water in the bathtub had already turned red with blood. There was also a large pool of red water on the floor.
Luke sneered inwardly. Did a woman who was listening to headphones in a bathtub really need to be shot through the chest with a shotgun? Even SWAT wasn't this violent when dealing with terrorists.
After a few more glances, he took a few more steps, and another corpse appeared at the intersection of a passage.
Luke's face darkened.
It was a boy who was four or five years old at most. He had been shot in the chest and wasn't breathing.
Apart from the man at the door, the three people who had died here were all defenseless women and children.
These DEA agents must be crazy!
Pausing for a moment to determine where the boy had come from, Luke walked into another room.
The room was a mess, and was riddled with bullet holes, all from different guns.
This was probably the location of the intense exchange of gunfire that had been reported to the police.
The body of a man in a checkered shirt was lying at the door. His scent suggested that he had been in contact with the other people. He was probably from the DEA.
These were the only five people who had died in the room.
The man who had died at the door was probably the owner of the house, the woman in the bathtub was the owner, and the young girl and the boy were the children of this family.
Scanning the room, Luke's gaze fell on a photo frame.
It was a photo of the dead young girl and the little boy, but in the lower middle, there was a photo silhouette stuck there.
It was a picture of an eleven or twelve-year-old girl.
As Luke observed the situation in the room, a middle-aged man in a beige suit looked at him with a smile. "Detective, this is our case."
Luke looked at him. This time, there wasn't the slightest bit of a polite smile on his face. He simply said indifferently, "Two minors have already died here. Are the DEA trying to carry out an attack or a massacre with this method of handling cases?"
The man's expression changed. "What do you think drug dealers are? Are they just devout believers who pray in church every day? They'll take out their guns and kill you at any moment. "
He pointed at the body of the man in the checkered shirt at the door and roared, "One of my buddies died, and you're already making sarcastic remarks? Oh, by the way, did you see that? That damn fatty even ruined my new suit! "As he said that, he pointed at his left shoulder.
There had indeed been a shot there.
But Luke could tell that the canister hadn't completely hit its mark, and had only been grazed by one or two bullets. Otherwise, the guy's left arm wouldn't have been able to move.
He nodded. "As long as you're happy." He then turned around and left.
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